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each life converges to some centre

Summary:

In one universe, Damian tries his best to survive with his brothers. In this one, Dami tries her best with her sisters. What stays the same is that they are the oldest, and they never feel like their best is enough.

Notes:

Chapter 1: One

Notes:

- Warnings for general terribleness. Mind the tags. Content warnings in endnotes.

- As always, much thanks to memoriast for the beta

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

In one universe, Damian tries his best to survive with his brothers. In this one, Dami tries her best with her sisters. What stays the same is that they are the oldest, and they never feel like their best is enough.

***

What sets Dami aside from her sisters is that her father has never fucked her. He grants plenty of others the privilege, of course, but he has never pulled her into a bed or bent her over a desk like he has to Tiff and Jay and even little Dixie. The reason for this is the shared blood in their veins, and Dami thinks it funny that even for a man who indiscriminately murders and terrorises and rapes children, this is a line he doesn’t cross.

She thinks he wants to, from the way his gaze lingers. Her mother had been beautiful and unlucky enough to catch Batman’s eye despite being outside his preferred age range, and from a young age Dami's father has never let her forget that she takes after her mother.

Sometimes, when her father is feeling sentimental and Dami has performed particularly well, he likes to talk about her mother. It feels like a desecration, but it’s also the only connection Dami has to her mother, outside of half-remembered impressions and her reflection in the mirror.

“She had spirit,” her father says as he slowly sips a glass of amber liquid. They are in his study, and her father sits in his ornate chair, the very image of a king holding court. The whiskey he is drinking costs more than the average Gothamite makes in a year. Dami is standing at attention, a polished little tool that has yet to be put away. She doesn’t want to hear this, but she can’t leave without being dismissed.

“She liked to defy me, even got away with it a couple times. I caught up to her in the end, of course.” Her father looks self-satisfied, reassured in his superiority.

“It’s too bad I had to kill her.”

He says this fondly, with the air of a man reminiscing over a treasured memory.

“I wanted to keep her, it would have been a fun challenge. But she just had to go and make it more trouble than she was worth.”

How can he sound like this over a woman he personally murdered? Dami doesn’t understand, and hopefully never will. A pause. Father’s glacial eyes bore into hers.

“You really do look like her. But you’ll behave, won’t you, girl?”

It’s a warning more than a question, because they both know the answer. Of course she will behave. Father is an expert at forcing compliance, and he has seen to her training personally.

He is expecting an answer, so she provides one. “Yes, sir.”

After Dami is dismissed, she wonders what her mother would think of her now. Maybe Mother would have wanted her to die bravely instead of eking out an existence as the enemy’s lapdog. But despite everything, even when it had just been her alone in the manor with a monster in the shape of a man, Dami had selfishly wanted to live. Now that she has sisters to protect, she clings to life with everything she has for their sakes.

***

Superman likes to complain about the colour of her skin and hair. He calls her ugly and boyish. (Short hair is easier to maintain, especially when showers are a privilege she doesn’t always earn. Dami cuts her own hair and her sisters’, because she is the only one trusted with handling scissors.) Dami doesn’t even disagree with him; she has more of her father’s features than she’d like. Superman makes it very clear she does not measure up to his preference for buxom blondes, but it doesn’t stop him from holding her down and shoving his way into her body.

Wonder Woman, on the other hand, likes her exotic features. Dami spends hours kneeling, draped in collars and cuffs and glamorous fabrics, as Wonder Woman dresses her up in memories of a homeland she can never return to. Dami would find this relatable (she too aches for a home that burned when Batman came for her mother) if she didn’t have other things to worry about during their sessions. Everyone in the Justice League is capable of doling out violence at the drop of a hat, but Wonder Woman favours mind games and demonstrations of her utter control in more subtle ways. Even when it hurts less, Dami is always left wanting to scrub her skin off with whatever water she can find.

The other members aren’t much for talking. Dami is a receptacle for their carnal desires and nothing more. She lies there as they take their pleasures from her body, and allows their faces and bodies to all blur together in her mind. Drifting is easier, close to peaceful. If she only had herself to worry about, Dami would be tempted to stay like this forever.

Superboy just watches. He tries to hide it, but Dami can tell by the way his eyes track her. (It feels similar to the way her father looks at her.) He never moves to touch her in that way, but the anticipation is sometimes worse than the pain.

***

The first time it happens, Dami doesn’t realize until Superboy points it out.

“What’s wrong with your heartbeat?”

“What?” she asks stupidly. She’s been off lately. Tired, distracted. Tiff had to cover for her when she slept in too late to get breakfast started. The food (toast and beans with a side of eggs and bacon, seasoned as her father prefers; Dami eats what is available but she misses spices) is never appetizing on the best of days, but recently she’s been unable to keep down more than a bite or two of toast.

“Oh,” he says softly. He’s looking at her stomach, his features alighting with something that Dami would recognize as wonder if she weren’t so sickened by the dawning revelation. “That’s another heartbeat, coming from you.”

***

Her father finds out, and tells her to get rid of it. She won’t be of any use to him while heavy with child, and he has no patience for dealing with the screaming of infants around the manor.

She didn’t want it in the first place, but the lack of choice stings anyways. In the end it’s just another thing taken away from her.

***

Alfred had given her an address on a slip of paper once. He had been the one to find her in the bathroom, scared and confused and desperately trying to stem the blood coming from the place between her legs. Dami had thought she was dying. The old butler had been the one to calm her down, to acquire supplies and to explain to her that this was a natural process that she should expect to happen roughly every month.

“Unless you are expecting a child,” Alfred looked desperately sad at this, which Dami didn’t understand at the time. (How could she have understood? She had been a child then, before her sisters had come into her life and her father had sent her away to have all vestiges of innocence ripped away from her growing body.) “And I pray it does not come to that, my girl, but should the worst happen, help will be available to you here.”

Dami wasn’t convinced that anyone would be able to help her, but took the paper anyways. In the end Alfred had been right, and Dami wonders what that says about her. Probably that she was too stupid to avoid the fate that befell her mother. She owes Alfred so much for the kindness he showed her, but ultimately the only thing she could do for him was bury him under the flowers he loved despite everything.

***

The address takes her to a run-down building in the bad part of town. The locals call it Crime Alley, but to Dami it doesn't feel any more dangerous than what lurks behind the whitewashed facade of the manor. Nothing escapes the shadow of the bat.

There is an older woman in an off-white lab coat smoking on the steps of the building. The lab coat, like the building, looks like it has seen better days. Is she a doctor? Dami doesn’t know what a doctor is supposed to look like. She’s never been to one.

“What do you want, girl?” The woman’s tone is not unkind, just brusque, but Dami flinches at being addressed anyways. Her arm instinctively comes up to curl around her stomach, an action which does not go unnoticed.

“I heard-” Dami trails off. Why are the words not coming out? (She does not want to speak such a thing into existence, but she must.) “I heard that you could help with—” She falters, then forces the words out in a rush of breath. “With—If I don’t want a baby—”

“Well,” says the woman. Dami has never been so relieved to be cut off. “We’d best get inside, then.”

The woman stubs out her cigarette and heads inside the building, Dami following wordlessly behind. A glance of the interior reveals it to be a medical clinic of some kind, and Dami is guided to sit on a dingy cot after the woman introduces herself as a doctor. She doesn’t ask for Dami’s name and Dami doesn’t volunteer the information.

“How far along are you?”

She doesn’t know. It’s been at least a month, probably? Sometimes it feels as though Dami is just a passenger in her own body, and when she gets like that it’s hard to keep track of things like time passing. The injuries from then are mostly healed, though, so it must have been a while.

The doctor doesn’t seem to like that answer very much, or the answer to the follow up question about her medical history, which is a complete blank due to her never having visited a doctor before. They do establish that she doesn’t take any drugs aside from the occasional painkiller and that she does not have a blood clotting disorder, which are apparently important considerations when it comes to medical abortions.

“Since you’re still in the first trimester, a combination of Mifepristone and Misoprostol would probably work the best. Are you able to come back for a follow-up appointment?”

Dami is unsure. Her father has directed her to get rid of it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be alright with procedures wasting too much of her time. The doctor’s face is grim but unsurprised. She retrieves a blister pack of five pills and instructs Dami to take the single Mifepristone tablet first, then the four Misoprostol tablets after twenty-four hours. Serious side effects are rare but possible, and Dami is told in no uncertain terms to seek medical attention if the bleeding is excessive or doesn’t stop. She privately doubts that she will be able to do such a thing even in the worst-case scenario, but verbally acquiesces. She has one more thing to ask, through.

“Where can I get more of these pills? If they are needed again…” Dami has been granted the privilege of leaving the manor to acquire abortifacients this time, but privileges can be revoked. It’s better to be prepared. Something like heartbreak flashes across the doctor’s face, and lingers as she slides Dami another blister pack of pills, and also explains to her what Plan B is and where to get it. It’s an informative lecture.

“Thank you,” says Dami as she prepares to leave the clinic, pills safely secured on her person. “I am in your debt.”

The doctor waves her off and lights up another cigarette. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. Her eyes are sad. Dami wonders what else this doctor has seen, how many others have passed through this building. There is so much pain in the world that Dami both sees and causes. She doesn’t deserve the help that she’s getting, but she’ll selfishly take it anyways.

***

Dami returns to the manor after stealing what she needs from a pharmacy. She would feel bad about it, but thievery is the least of her crimes and she won’t be of any use to her sisters if she is incapacitated. Batman is currently off-world for a Justice League meeting, so there is a little more slack around the manor than usual. (She’s not stupid enough to think that her father isn’t monitoring them somehow.) She takes this chance to check up on her sisters, to reassure herself that they are doing… as well as they can be, given the circumstances.

Tiff is in the kitchen, dealing with the logistics of keeping the manor up and running, because such work is below her father’s notice and Alfred is no longer there to do it. She looks up when Dami enters the room.

Mission success? Tiff signs.

Yes, Dami signs back. Something in the set of Tiff’s shoulders relaxes incrementally. Where are the others?

Containment cells, still.

Alright. I’ll debrief you later.

Dami quickly makes her way down to the containment cells. The sight of Jay and Dixie perking up in response to her presence never fails to make the inside of her chest feel warm, despite the glass currently separating them. She can’t stay long, but makes sure to cram the handful of candy she’s obtained through the feeding slot. (The pills she keeps on herself.) Her sisters deserve some sweetness in their lives.

Task done, Dami goes to her favourite bathroom. (It’s small, out of the way, and the sound outside carries such that she gets forewarning when someone is coming. Nothing bad has happened to her there, yet.) Cleanup will be easier. She strips, gets in the bathtub, swallows down the first pill, and waits. The woman doctor had warned her that it might hurt, but any pain Dami might feel when the cramps and blood start is overshadowed by the relief that comes.

(The physical sensations are not pleasant, but the experience of conceiving had been much worse.)

She is so grateful she won’t be responsible for bringing more children into this life.

***

Dami tries her best to ensure that no (further) children arise from her father’s actions. She has enough siblings, and being the child of Batman is a fate she wouldn’t wish on anyone. She is fairly certain her father knows about the pills she steals from the pharmacies, but he doesn’t say anything or punish her for it, and that is the closest thing to approval she will get.

Availability is an issue. Dami has the most freedom of movement because she is most useful and best behaved, but nothing in the future is guaranteed. The pills have worked so far, for Dami and Tiff. Jay and Dixie are still too young to have started their periods.

(There is a close call, for Dami, when Superman takes her to the Fortress of Solitude and keeps her there for a month. By the time she is allowed to return to her sisters there is already something growing inside her, and she doesn’t know if the doctor’s medicine will work on something not entirely human. It turns out to be a moot point, because right after that, Dami makes a mistake on a mission and her father beats her so badly that the potential child is no longer a concern. She can’t tell if he did that on purpose, and if so whether it was meant to be punishment or a favour. Is this something she will need to do for her sisters eventually? At least from her it would be a mercy to be doled out under the guise of pain, rather than violence for violence’s sake.)

***

Dami lives in terror of the day her value as a breeder eclipses her utility as an assistant in her father’s eyes. She is sixteen now, and her uniforms are constantly too tight in the hips and the chest. She draws more and more attention on the streets when she carries out her father’s missions.

The exact awareness of her position’s precariousness is what keeps her hands steady as she sheds blood under her father’s watchful eye. Dami can’t shake the feeling that one day her hands will slip in a way she will be unable to hide. Maybe then it will be her turn to be buried under the roses.

***

Her scalpel is wet with the blood of the police commissioner, and then the world ends in a blaze of white fire.

Notes:

Content warnings: rape of children/minors, pregnancy resulting from said rapes, explicit description of abortion via medication, mention of forced abortion via beating/violence

- Basically this story exists because I was reading Another Mirror again when I was like hey wouldn't it be fucked up if they were girls and also had to worry about pregnancy on top of everything else?

- Please let me know if you spot any weird typos in the text! I have been slammed by work and am therefore not sleeping very much.

- If this story hurt you, please feel free to tell me in exacting detail which parts hurt the most via comments :)